


Gold in the Fractures

by riverdaze



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxious Oikawa Tooru, Bipolar Bokuto Koutarou, Bipolar Disorder, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Developing Bokuto Koutarou/Oikawa Tooru, Developing Relationship, Established Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Established Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, M/M, Mania, Manic Episode, Mental Health Issues, Multi, No cheating, Oikawa Tooru Being Oikawa Tooru, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Separation Anxiety, quad relationship, the fact that those are both tags says it all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverdaze/pseuds/riverdaze
Summary: Bokuto and Oikawa are on the same university volleyball team, but they don't start talking until a stressful chance encounter at the doctors. They're both dealing with the changes inherent to starting university—including being separated from their old support systems and switching to long-distance relationships with their respective boyfriends—as well as new overwhelming diagnoses in their life.Maybe that's why their friendship becomes close quickly, or maybe it's the pleasant feeling of understanding and being helpful to each other in a dynamic different from their norms. Either way, they find something new in each other, something they don't want to let slip away.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou/Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: HQ Polyam Bang





	1. Bokuto

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the HQ Polyam Bang!  
> I've had this dynamic on my to-do list for a while, so I'm happy to finally get this squared away.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [Catastra_fey](/users/Catastra_fey) for working with me as an artist (and titling this piece when I was drawing blanks)! Please check out [her peice](https://catastrafey.tumblr.com/post/635638643077349376/heres-is-my-piece-of-our-collab-for-the#notes)! Thanks for everything, Cat!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Bokuto tapped the pamphlet against his thigh once and then twice more. The hushed atmosphere of the room, interrupted only by the ticking clock and breathing of the lady at the desk, made Bokuto antsy… more antsy than usual. The glossy paper made a satisfying sound against his baggy jeans, though, so he kept doing that.

He didn’t have a reason to still be in the office. The doctor had finished telling Bokuto what he needed to know more than... Bokuto checked the clock. _Okay, the longer hand means the shorter time, so that’s minutes, counting by fives_... Jeez, he hated analog clocks. Well, his appointment was over was the important part. He needed to leave. He needed to call his parents and Akaashi and maybe Kuroo? No, why Kuroo? He didn’t have to tell everyone he knew. But Akaashi... he was waiting. Bokuto paused to glance at the white letters of the brochure before continuing to hit it against his leg. 

Where did his phone go, anyway? Not in his pockets. In his bag, then. But he’d have to empty it out to check. The task was daunting. Every seam strained with the folders, loose questionnaires, and notebooks he’d filled front and back recording every aspect of his life since before he’d left high school. He imagined dumping it all onto the floor of the waiting room, leaving it there. He imagined leaving behind whatever patterns and clues the doctor plucked from the mess that resulted in the pamphlet in his hand and treatment plan in his pocket.

But that was probably a bad idea. Akaashi was always trying to get Bokuto to think through his impulses... back when they went to school together. He wished Akaashi was here, right beside Bokuto so he didn’t have to decide to call him or not. And maybe, on the same note, his parents would be here, and his mom would put her hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing, and his brothers and sisters would tell him it really wasn’t a problem. They could all dogpile, and he could get his thoughts to mean something instead of just feeling… feeling...

The sound of the laminate sped up.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?” Bokuto made a squawking sound as his head snapped to face the speaker. Without him even noticing, the receptionist had gotten up and approached him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Did one of the doctors ask you to wait for something?” she continued, lips pink and eyes soft, cute. If he were standing, he’d tower over her, but her gaze made him feel small anyway. 

“I, no, I’m not waiting. I got diagnosed already.” He cringed. “I mean, I’m done, here, for today.” He looked away from her and down at his hands. The pamphlet, dropped in his alarm, lay now at the floor between his feet.

“That’s alright, I wanted to be sure you didn’t need anything. Take your time. If you’d like some water, there’s a cooler down the hall and to the left.” She smiled at him before returning to her desk.

Water, water could be good. Bokuto bent over to grab the pamphlet again and secured his bag over his shoulder before standing and heading where she said. The building consisted of the main reception area and clusters of smaller doctor's offices that he passed as he walked, tapping the brochure over his chest. 

A modern black cooler stood against the wall, right between the two bathrooms. After filling and emptying three of the tiny disposable paper cups, Bokuto’s head did clear up a bit. Even if he could get his thoughts in better order, though, he still felt the same… a bit… fluttery inside. Like instead of butterflies in his stomach, he had one lonely little moth lost in the cavernous void of his chest.

Beside him, the door to one of the bathrooms swung open, and Bokuto turned to look out of instinct.

“Oikawa?”

The other man’s shoulders hitched.

Like Bokuto, Oikawa was a first year on the university volleyball team. His jump serves were awesome! But…

Oikawa looked down at the floor for a second before looking up at Bokuto.

“Bokuto? What a surprise! How are you?”

Bokuto had first heard about Oikawa secondhand from a complaining Karasuno and some issues of Volleyball Monthly he had managed to skim before losing interest. Both sources hailed Oikawa as a scary talented player with overwhelming tenacity.

Bokuto hadn’t seen it, though.

Coach had scolded Oikawa more than once for not paying attention in practice. He often got caught sneaking his phone into the gym, checking it during water breaks or stretches or even in the middle of practice games. 

Though, he was just as pretty as he looked in his pictures. Maybe even as pretty as Akaashi! (Except not, because Akaashi was Bokuto’s boyfriend, and that alone made him the prettiest boy in the world). Although, right now, Oikawa looked kind of...

“Are you okay?” The question spilled out without thought, a direct result of the puffy irritation around Oikawa’s big brown eyes and the tense corners of his white smile. 

“What? Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you look kinda sad.” A single barked laugh burst out of Oikawa’s mouth before he swallowed the rest. 

“You should work here,” Oikawa huffed at the floor. He looked back up, “Though your bedside manner would ruin your chances of being hired." He brought his hand to his heart in dramatics, cellphone tight in his grip. “I asked you how you were, and you answered my question with a question!”

“Oh, sorry! I’m feeling really bad right now. How are you? Wait, I already asked that, huh?” Oikawa stared at him, smile dropping somewhat, and Bokuto’s skin prickled. He hunched in and ripped little strips in his pamphlet. “Sorry, I forgot that you already told me. I didn’t mean to--” A light dancing sound interrupted Bokuto’s rising embarrassment. He looked up to see Oikawa laughing a little before sniffling and looking away to rub at his face. Oh no! “Ah! I’m really really sorry! I don’t know what I said to make you sad again, but I didn’t--”

“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything. I’ve never met anyone who answered ‘how are you’ with such honesty before, is all.” He made the dancing laugh sound again. Bokuto straightened up at realizing he’d gotten Oikawa to feel a little better. The corner of Oikawa’s mouth twitched up. “So, what’s got you down, Bochan?”

“Oh, well…” Bokuto looked down. Oikawa followed his gaze to the mangled paper in Bokuto's grip. When he realized what was happening, Bokuto pulled it behind his back like a guilty child. Still, he and Oikawa looked back up at each other at the same time, and Bokuto knew Oikawa had seen. “... I just got my diagnosis today.” Bokuto admitted. “I mean, we’ve been considering it for a long time, and I’ve been doing tests for months, but today the doctor said it’s probably for sure,” he said, bringing the pamphlet out from behind his back.

Resources and Support  
Managing your Diagnosis:  
_Bipolar Disorder_  


It read on the gray cover, with half a watercolor picture of a brain underneath. 

“Bipolar disorder?” Oikawa asked, looking down at it again. Bokuto nodded a few times. Oikawa hummed and held on to his elbows, cell phone pressed against one. With the sleeves of his baggy sweater pulled over his palms, he didn’t look as powerful as he did in the magazines. 

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” Bokuto said.

“What? No, of course not.” He uncrossed his arms and stood up straighter, erasing his vulnerability. “I...”

“Brain things are scary, huh? My doctor’s recommending me therapy and pills with names I can’t say, but I’ve never been good at remembering those sorts of things. At home, my boyfriend helped me a lot when I started writing down all my symptoms and stuff! Actually, he’s the one who made me see the first doctor because he was super worried about how I was acting. I miss him a ton. I don’t know if I even wanna keep track of all this without… But I guess I don’t sound very grown-up, huh?” Bokuto caught up with himself, embarrassed again.

It wasn’t that he needed Akaashi to run his life. It was just… Akaashi was the first person to pay attention to Bokuto on such a personal level. It made Bokuto feel significant in a way growing up with four talented siblings and two working parents-- despite how loved he knew he was-- couldn’t. It scared Bokuto when the doctor talked about how bad things could get if he went untreated. He only had the choice now because Akaashi noticed his bouts of hyperactivity and often subsequent drops might be more than a personality quirk. Despite Bokuto living with, at one point, six other people, four different adults counting his parents and older siblings, Akaashi had somehow managed to be the first to ask the vital questions.

“... No… I… understand. My boyfriend was the same way for me. He’s at a different school now and--” Oikawa glanced at the phone in his hand-- “I… I miss him very much.”

“Do you want to go get lunch together?” Bokuto asked. He didn’t know why. It just sort of happened. 

“Wha… Why, Bochan, are you _flirting_ with me? Right after I mentioned my boyfriend? How scandalous of you,”

“No! I just thought--”

“Aww. Are you saying I’m not worth flirting with? Am I not your type?” He pressed his phone against his pouting lower lip and bowed his head so he could bat his eyelashes. Bokuto pawed at the cooler for more water.

“I--”

“I’m kidding~” Oikawa stood up straight again with a relaxed smile. “Lunch would be nice. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Umm… dining hall?” Crinkles appeared on the bridge of Oikawa’s delicate narrow nose. “I think it’s pretty good,” Bokuto added. Oikawa looked at him and quirked his lips.

“Let’s leave the choosing to me, how’s that? Let me close my appointment at the desk, and then I’ll figure it out,”

“Appointment?” Bokuto’s eyebrows scrunched before his mouth opened wide. “Oh! You too?” Oikawa huffed.

“Of course. Why else would I be here?”

“I dunno. I didn’t think about it.” Bokuto shrugged, hiding his mouth in the collar of his windbreaker. But Oikawa laughed again, so Bokuto didn’t feel too bad about it.


	2. Oikawa

Running into Bokuto at his psychologist's office had been unexpected and unwelcome in the moment. Still, Oikawa couldn’t find it in himself to fuel his anger about it as he listened to Bokuto go on about a collage of his favorite high-school volleyball games (all of them, to be clear). Oikawa’s not sure if he would say he’s relieved; Bokuto wouldn’t go crowing to everybody about it for the sake of spreading rumors, but he also didn’t seem much like the kind of guy who excelled at keeping personal things quiet. But Oikawa wasn’t so upset anymore, so that was something.

While listening to Bokuto, Oikawa fiddled with his phone under the table. They (that is to say, Oikawa) had found a nice cheap little sandwich shop right off campus as the alternative to Bokuto’s dining hall option. They sat there now halfway through their meal with the brochure Bokuto had shown Oikawa face down on the corner of the table, ever present. It reminded Oikawa of how stupid he was being. Bokuto had to deal with an unavoidable real chronic illness while Oikawa was, once again, panicking over nothing. He didn’t really know anything besides the stereotypes about bipolar disorder, but he knew it was something that real adults dealt with and with real legitimate physical and social consequences. Meanwhile, Oikawa sat around micromanaging his boyfriend’s life like a paranoid child.

As if to prove a point, Oikawa’s phone vibrated. Every other thought vanished. He didn’t recognize the number, so he knew he shouldn’t answer, but what if, what if…

“And the--”

“Hello?”

Bokuto froze, mouth open, cut off mid-sentence as Oikawa answered the call. Shame rushed through Oikawa as he realized it, especially when the telemarketer at the other end began to speak. Oikawa brushed off the conversation and hung up. For a moment, he stared down at the table, feeling hot and ridiculous. Collecting himself, he looked up and smiled.

“I’m sorry about that, Bochan! I thought it was important,”

“That’s okay. You’ve had your phone in your hand the whole time. Are you waiting for someone to call?” He tilted his head while he spoke, white and black hair falling to one side in a rather endearing way. The hair still had product in it, but it wasn’t up in the dramatic spikes Bokuto usually wore to practice... Or perhaps the endearment Oikawa felt related more to Bokuto’s easy forgiveness. Making friends in college had been more difficult than Oikawa usually found it, on account of incidents like this one. 

“It’s nothing,” Oikawa replied. Except he could feel the now familiar anxiety creeping up on him. Just because it was only a telemarketer this time didn’t mean everything was okay. What if something _was_ wrong? What if something happened and Oikawa sat here eating lunch not even knowing about it? He should check. He needed to check. But… Oikawa glanced at the time. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t call or text while Iwa-chan was in class. He could do that much. He could. Just another twenty three minutes. He could do that.

His fingers around his phone grew cold and a shiver dripped down Oikawa’s spine. What if Iwa-chan had skipped class, even though he promised he wouldn’t, and something had happened? Doubt churned in his stomach and he hated it because he knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop him from feeling sick. He couldn’t stop thinking ‘what if.’ The cold in his hands became a numbness that snuck up his wrists in the new familiar way. He wished he could tell himself it was fine, but he knew he had no way of really knowing. Something _could_ have happened and the idea itself hit like a spear through the chest, sharp, all encompassing, and _painful_. What if, what if, what if…

It started after graduation.

Before any of them had moved off for college, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa spent a lot of those free months together, enjoying the little things Miyagi had to offer. Despite-- or maybe because of-- the looming knowledge of their separation, it was a good winter, one of their best. And Oikawa ignored the twinge in his chest whenever the future made its way into their conversations… whenever anyone alluded to _leaving_.

Matsukawa was the first to go. He signed up for an early start program at his university and left weeks before term started. They laughed and hugged and waved him off, because there was nothing to be upset about. They had phones and social media and the homes they would all return to during breaks. It wasn’t a big deal, really. But Oikawa thought too often of watching Iwaizumi’s car disappear into the distance the same way Matsukawa’s had. On the fifth night of putting himself to sleep agonizing with that thought, he threw up. He convinced himself it was because he ate something strange, but the seed had been planted.

Oikawa spent the rest of their time jittery and uncertain and downright nauseous in unpredictable ebbs and flows. The others worried, his family worried, but Oikawa brushed them all off. And if he stuck even closer to Iwaizumi, no one could find it too strange. They were about to be seperated after almost two decades of constant companionship and four years of dating, they’d seen each other every day for as long as either of them could remember. It’d be weird not to want to make the most of the last few weeks before a new stage in their lives.

So when Oikawa woke up from a nightmare with a feeling of dread, and snuck out of his house and into Iwaizumi’s, Iwaizumi let him--it wouldn't be the first time, though usually for less innocent reasons. And when Oikawa turned up at Iwaizumi’s door one morning only to find Iwaizumi out on some errands, Iwaizumi sighed but didn’t complain when Oikawa went and joined him at them instead of waiting. And when Oikawa sat at a family dinner and his mom alluded to the difficulties of long distance relationships, and Oikawa’s stomach began to hurt to the point of making him dizzy, he excused himself to call Iwaizumi and no one thought much of it. Not even Oikawa, who realized how ridiculous he was being, but chalked it up to a spare bit of last minute nerves that would pass when the time came. 

Then the time did come, and everything fell apart.

“Oikawa, what--” Iwaizumi’s voice cut off as Oikawa began to tremble, and his hand tightened around Iwaizumi’s. They’d been clasping hands after their final hug goodbye and Iwaizumi had tried to let go. The feelings that rushed through Oikawa at that single moment felt like an implosion. No thoughts made it through his head except those of their imminent separation, except those that told him-- against all his higher logic-- that if he let go, he’d never see Iwaizumi again. The breath left his lungs with the thought and his joints ached as he broke out in shivers. Looking down, he could see the pale hand clasping onto Iwaizumi’s, and he knew intellectually it was his, but he couldn’t feel it anymore, couldn’t connect it with his feelings. “Oikawa!”

“I… I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa recognized his own voice but didn’t know where the words came from. The capacity to speak felt beyond him. “I’m having a moment.”

“What’s happening? Are you okay? You’re sweating. Are you sick? Were you hiding being sick? What the fuck.”

“Iwa-chan’s such a worrywart,” the voice laughed.

“Tooru, darling?” His mother approached from where she and her father had been waiting in the car, packed with Oikawa’s belongings. “You’re swaying. Is everything alright?”

“Perfect!” Swaying? He didn’t feel himself swaying. He didn’t feel much of anything anymore besides the utmost certainty that Iwaizumi would die if Oikawa let go of his hand. Which was just dumb, the stupidest thing Oikawa had ever thought…. But no matter how much he told himself that, he couldn’t let go. The very thought of it… “Tooru? Kaeto, get over here!” 

Oikawa’s father appeared at Oikawa’s other side, and all three of them stared at him, all trying to hold him while he held onto Iwaizumi.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa’s voice said. _I’m fine_ , he told himself. More importantly, _Iwaizumi is fine_. Iwaizumi would be fine regardless of whether or not Oikawa could see him. “I’m fine. We can go. I’m fine,”

“Oikawa, you’re bruising my hand. You’re not fine.” Right, the hand holding Iwaizumi’s in a death grip was his own.

At some point, they went back inside. At some point, the feeling in Oikawa’s body returned and he could let Iwaizumi go. At some point, the feelings receded and he could, eyes averted in overwhelming embarrassment, explain to some degree what had happened.

And Oikawa hated it because his parents looked at him in that way they did when he showed vulnerability like this: soft, like they knew he wouldn’t be able to handle this, like they expected this from him, like they expected him to fail. The fact that his parents never expected anything from him always rubbed him the wrong way, like they didn’t think him capable of doing anything worth expecting. His mom took his hands and hugged him close and told him maybe this was too much for him, maybe he could start university next year instead, and he knew she was seeing a trembling toddler who used to fear the world in a way Oikawa had grown past thirteen years ago… or he thought he had.

So he rebelled when his parents suggested he go back into the therapy he abandoned just as long ago-- that they had been trying to get him to go back to everytime he showed a vaguely negative emotion. When Iwaizumi suggested maybe they weren’t so wrong, this time, Oikawa felt betrayed.

But after making it to university, Oikawa began to spiral. The time between his phone calls to Iwaizumi began to be measurable in hours rather than days, his volleyball and his teammates began to come secondary to making sure Iwaizumi still existed outside Oikawa’s perception. For a period of time he settled down into a place where whatever this feeling was about Iwaizumi’s absence began to translate into Oikawa not wanting to face the day at all for fear he’d get horrible news. He spent days in bed without actually sleeping, because he couldn’t sleep knowing Iwaizumi wasn’t just a short run across the street away. Knowing that if something happened, Oikawa was too far away to be any help. Any time his eyes started to close he’d be hit with the certainty that something horrible must have happened to Iwazumi, that he would probably die while Oikawa slept. His energy and motivation for his schoolwork and his volleyball plummeted. How could he focus on those things when he was in a constant state of mourning? It became too much-- too much for Oikawa, too much for his parents. Too much for Iwaizumi, who texted him a name and address and told Oikawa if he didn’t make an appointment Iwaizumi would drive down and drag him there himself.

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa drifted back into his cold body. Bokuto’s hands lay pressed flat against the table while he leaned forward over it, staring at Oikawa with big eyes, golden in the light from the window. 

Where… The smell of bread and sound of voices flowed into his awareness. He looked around at the decently crowded shop and the old yellow table and the half eaten sandwich in front of him. Right. But when had Bokuto stood? Oikawa opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He realized he had, once again, allowed his anxiety and panic to get the better of him. How long had Bokuto been trying to get his attention?

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he laughed, still trying to uncurl his unresponsive fingers. This was, what? The forth panic attack of the month?

“Are you hurt?”

“What? No, of course not,”

“You look like you’re hurting,”

“I--” Oikawa blinked when the back of Bokuto’s hand hit Oikawa’s forehead.

“You’re sweating. And you’re hot... Physically. I mean, your temperature. Are you sick?” Wasn’t he?

“No. I’m fine,” Oikawa snapped, pushing away Bokuto’s hand. He regretted it immediately, not insignificantly thanks to the way Bokuto wilted under the chastisement. Though Oikawa was struck, like he had been back at the doctor’s office, with the thought that Bokuto’s sad expression and bowed shoulders looked somewhat ridiculous paired with the bright colors and geometric shapes of his jacket. “... I’m fine,” he repeated, softer. 

“Right.” Bokuto sat back down, staring at the tabletop. “I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said. After taking some deep breaths, Oikawa forced a smile onto his face but Bokuto just frowned at him. The bright color of Bokuto’s brochure called to him out of the corner of his eye. 

“You’re not bothering me…” Bokuto didn’t look like he believed him, still slumped and pouting. The image of this big guy looking small and soft with the bright round eyes of a kicked puppy disarmed Oikawa. “Do you ever feel things you know don’t make sense?”

Okay. Wow. Did the man with bipolar disorder ever feel like he lost control of his emotions? Was Oikawa a total idiot? 

But Bokuto didn’t act like Oikawa asked the stupid question he just had.

“Oh ya, all the time,” he answered, perking up. “One time, I spilled something and I cried.”

Oikawa laughed before he could stop himself, but quickly cut the sound off, cringing.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I get it. It’s dumb and I know that now, but it didn’t feel dumb at the time, you know? It felt horrible and you can’t help what you feel, you know?” Bokuto shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to go with it. So you should call whoever you want to call,”

“What?”

Bokuto gestured to the phone Oikawa held to his stomach, entire body curled around it.

“You should call them. I call my boyfriend all the time, but I would call him even if we were only friends. I felt stupid at first, because sometimes it’s just because I really need to tell him how happy I am because I saw a cool bug or something, but he always listens. If you’re feeling this bad, whoever you need to call will listen if they care about you,”

“Has anyone ever told Bochan he was nosy?” Oikawa sing-songed, not without a cruel undertone.

“Oh. I just thought… sorry.” Bokuto looked down with his hands pressed together between his thighs.

“... I… calling him would be giving up,” Oikawa admitted. Bokuto looked up and tilted his head.

“Giving up? Because you called a friend?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand,”

“Why not?” Bokuto asked, looking incredibly unoffended by Oikawa’s purposeful condescension… which meant Oikawa actually had to explain himself. Gross.

“Because you--” Oikawa looked towards the pamphlet-- “you have a real thing. I’m sure there’s paragraphs about family and support in there. I’m just… dependent. It’d be better if I could stop calling all the time.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows came together as he thought, hard enough that Oikawa thought he could see the heat coming off him. It was somewhat endearing. Iwaizumi looked a lot more angry when he made a similar sort of thinking expression. The clock ticked away; twelve more minutes in Iwaizumi’s lecture. 

“But you said you had an appointment,too. Why are you seeing a doctor if you don’t have a ‘real thing’?”

Shame rushed through Oikawa. He looked away.

“I couldn’t handle it, I guess. And I didn’t want to miss anymore practice because I couldn’t pull myself together--”

“It made you miss volleyball?! That sucks! I’ve been there, though. I don’t have as many, um, depressive episodes as manic ones, but there was one in highschool that was super bad. I missed practice a bunch and class, too. But… you said you didn’t have a thing? Why’d you miss volleyball if you didn’t want to?”

Oikawa sucked in a breath.

“You get depressed?”

“Huh? Oh, ya, it’s part of bipolar, I guess. I get ‘depressive’ and ‘manic episodes,’ or, uh, that’s what my doctor calls them. I don’t know. All I know is that sometimes I feel really good in a way Akaashi called ‘scary,’ and less times I feel really bad in a way that’s also scary and dangerous but more obvious. I haven’t missed practice here yet, though. So your thing must be pretty bad if it made you do that!”

“It’s not really--” Oikawa closed his mouth. ‘Depressive episode’ was the exact term his doctor used to describe that period right before Oikawa finally made an appointment. How could he say it was nothing when Bokuto admitted so easily to suffering from them? But of course, Bokuto’s was real and attached to a chronic mental illness. It wasn’t situational, it wasn’t something he’d given himself over something idiotic. Not like Oikawa. Eight more minutes.

“Do you have to go somewhere?”

“What?”

“You keep looking at the time,”

“I… I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get out of class,”

“Do you have to go meet him?”

“No. He goes to a different school. I just…”

“Oh! You’re waiting to call him. That makes sense. Is that why you carry around your phone in your hand everywhere, even in volleyball? In case he calls? Coach isn’t too happy with that, you know.”

Oikawa nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Of course he knew he wasn’t getting off on a good foot with Coach. Of course he knew how it looked when he took his phone out during practice. But he couldn’t… he just couldn’t.

“Maybe,” Bokuto continued, “you should explain it to him?”

“Explain what to who?”

“Explain to Coach that you have a ‘thing’ that has to do with your phone,”

“I didn’t say that,” Oikawa snapped, skin prickling.

“Oh, you didn’t?” Bokuto looked up like he was running through the conversation in his head, “I guess you didn’t. Is that not right?”

“... he’ll laugh,”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because it’s a childish and ridiculous thing to have,”

“What do you have?... Wait! Sorry! That was rude, huh? You don’t have to answer that. That’s super personal and totally not something you have to tell me at all!”

Oikawa studied his embarrassment for a moment. 

“Are you finished?” Oikawa asked.

“What?”

“With your food.” Bokuto looked down at the empty wrapping on the table.

“Oh, ya. I’m done,”

“Me too,” Oikawa said, rewrapping the remains of his sandwich and putting it in his bag. “Let’s go. Maybe we can get some practice in,”

“Really!?” Bokuto jumped up, crumpling his paper and looking for a trash can before pausing. “Wait, we shouldn’t work out right after eating, right?”

“We’ll take it easy,”

“But easy is boring,” Bokuto whined.

“I couldn't agree more,” Oikawa laughed, “what’s a little nausea between friends?”

“Cool!”

They walked out of the shop and onto the streets, heading back to the university grounds. The wind blew hot air through Oikawa’s hair, signaling the transition into an early summer. A flash of color drew his eyes to Bokuto, who was taking off his colorful jacket to tie it around his waist. The plain t-shirt he wore underneath did a much better job of showing off his strong arms and broad chest. Recalling their practices together, Oikawa knew Bokuto’s legs were just as impressive under the faded blue mom jeans. What a tragedy.

Oikawa looked down to check the time on his phone just as it vibrated in his hand.

2:15pm  
Just got out of class. I’m good. Heading home. Text you when i get there? Or do you want to call?

texting’s fine ;->

iwa-chan shouldn’t worry so much

Stop being shitty. I’m going to call you

i said i was fine! 

ya, and you’re a liar. Be ready. 

Oikawa smiled. He smiled and he concentrated very hard on not imagining everything that could go wrong with Iwaizumi walking home.

“Do you have to pick up your gym clothes?” he asked Bokuto instead,

“Oh! I forgot. Ya, I do,”

“Were you planning to play volleyball in jeans?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well I’m not going to. Meet you on the outdoor courts in thirty?” he asked, giving himself time for his phone call with Iwaizumi.

“The beach ones? Why?”

“The gym’s booked this last minute,”

“Oh, ya. But we can’t really practice right on those… But It doesn’t matter, it’ll still be fun! I’ll be there!”

They went their separate ways.

It didn’t take long after Oikawa made it home for Iwaizumi to call. They spoke the whole time Oikawa got ready and didn’t hang up until Oikawa was around the corner from the court.

“Have to go, Iwa-chan! I have plans!”

“With who?”

“Jealousy is ugly, you know,”

“Shut up,”

“If you must know, I’m practicing with a friend… what are you going to do?”

“I’ll be studying here, I promise,” Iwaizumi answered, not commenting on the clearly fake casual-tone of Oikawa’s question. “I’ll text you if anything changes,”

“And… um…”

“My roommate is here. Nothing is going to happen,”

“I know that!” 

“That’s good, but I don’t mind you asking, you know,”

“... I have to go,” Oikawa answered, willing his embarrassment down. The fears his mind churned out sounded ridiculous even to him. He hated considering how they must sound to Iwaizumi. He hated being reminded of how Iwaizumi catered to his ridiculousness. Iwaizumi should mind. It wasn’t fair, it was downright stupid, that Iwaizumi had to report every change and whim in his schedule to a partner miles away to keep that partner from falling into a panic.

“Okay. Take care of yourself,”

“I will… you… you too, please,”

“You know I will. I love you, Tooru,”

“... I love you, too,” Oikawa near whispered. They hung up and Oikawa collected himself before approaching the gate to the sand covered court.

“Hey, Oikawa!” Bokuto waved.

Yup. His legs looked just as good as Oikawa remembered. Those knee pads were a crime… but not an awful one. It sort of channeled the whole girl-in-stockings aesthetic that Oikawa was rather a fan of, so he didn’t say anything about the fact that Bokuto really didn’t need them on a beach court.

“Hello again, Bochan. Ready?”

“Ready!”

Five hours later found them sitting on the grass right off the sand, panting. Bokuto had already thrown up a couple hours earlier. Oikawa, who hadn’t eaten as much, managed to resist.

The exercise and the phone call earlier had helped, but Oikawa still flipped his phone open and closed as they rested, just in case.

“Did you get to talk to your boyfriend?” Bokuto asked, watching him.

“Hmmm? Yes,”

“I bet he was happy you called!”

“You don’t even know him,”

“No, but if you care about him so much he probably cares a lot about you!”

“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think?” Oikawa looked up at the sky instead of at Bokuto.

“I… I don’t think so?”

“Just because you care about someone doesn’t mean they care about you,”

“Why would you date someone that doesn’t care about you, though?... Does he not care about you?”

“Of course he does,” Oikawa snapped. Catching himself and his unreasonable amount of offence at a possibility he brought up himself, he took a deep breath and continued. “Too much. I’m… he puts up with a lot,”

“I get that.” Bokuto nodded, “Mine does too. He’s-- his name’s Akaashi-- he’s always the one who had to deal with me when I had episodes. At first it was just on the court, he was my setter so he always tried to make me feel my best, but we became friends and… actually, people used to call him my babysitter.” Bokuto laughed a little without much humor. Oikawa stared, heat prickling his skin at the familiarity. “It’s super embarrassing now that I think about it, but it was probably fair. I got more out of the relationship than he did because he was always keeping me… happy, I guess. And now he’s so far away and I feel like something’s missing even though I should be able to take care of myself. It’s just… he paid a lot of attention in a way no one else could. I liked that attention. And I feel kind of bad now because what if he’s better off now that he can make other friends without me in the way?”

“I have to go,”

“Huh?” Oikawa didn’t look at Bokuto as he gathered his stuff and stood up from the grass. “Oikawa?”

“I have something important to do,” Oikawa claimed as he began to walk away. At the gate, he paused. “I’ll see you at practice, Bochan.” 

For the entire walk home he stared intently at the ground, not wanting anyone to read his heart ache on his face. Usually, he’d be able to hide it, but Bokuto’s words had splayed out and dissected him for the world to see. How could Bokuto just say something like that? Admit it to someone who was barely more than a stranger? Oikawa checked his phone for new messages.

7:32pm  
Heading to the library. Text you when i get there

7:43pm  
I’m here. Staying for a couple hours. I’ll let you know when i leave 

are you with anyone? 

Alone 

Oikawa resisted the urge to text back a ‘good.’ In Iwaizumi's dorm it was important someone was there in case something happened. In a library full of people to keep watch, it was best Iwaizumi stayed alone, because if he made other friends… if he made other friends, met a cute boy, he might leave Oikawa. Which… it was a horrible train of thought, Oikawa knew it was a horrible thought… but… but he couldn't… 

Eyes on the ground, Oikawa rushed home.


	3. Bokuto II

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Bokuto mumbled to Oikawa as they finished up in the locker room.

“Huh?”

“I made you sad again,” Bokuto explained. He’d thought about it a lot after Oikawa left like that, but he still couldn’t figure out exactly what he’d done wrong. Oikawa turned to him and smiled.

“Don’t be silly, Bochan! I wasn’t upset. I told you, I had something I had to do,”

“Oh, right,” Bokuto said, closing his locker, shoulders slumped. If Oikawa didn’t want to accept his apology, that was okay.

“Let’s go to dinner,”

“Huh?!” Bokuto perked up.

“I don’t know about you, but I get hungry after practice. Let’s go eat.” He finished slipping on his coat and turned to Bokuto with a small smile. They were some of the last ones in the room because Bokuto had been waiting to approach Oikawa to apologize, and Oikawa had been blow drying his hair. It was worth it. His hair looked really really soft.

“Okay! I love eating!”

Oikawa laughed and put on a haughty expression, “But don’t expect anything untowards, Bochan. I don’t put out on the first date. I’m much too classy for that,”

“Wait, what?” Oikawa grabbed his bag and headed towards the door. “Wait, is this a date? I have a boyfriend.” Oikawa left. “Oikawa!?”

In the dining hall, Bokuto decided this probably wasn’t actually a date and that was a joke. Mostly because they were in the dining hall with their gym bags, which based on Oikawa’s reaction from yesterday wasn’t something he considered very ‘classy.’

“How much protein do you aim for daily?” Oikawa asked as they stood in line for food. Bokuto told him, and they fell into a conversation about healthy eating and work-out routines. They did things a little different, but Bokuto thought that made a lot of sense. Even though they were about the same height, Oikawa was clearly going for something more lethe than Bokuto’s goal of maximizing his power. It worked well on him. That being said...

“Are you trying to gain?” Bokuto asked, sitting in a booth they found in the corner.

“Mhm. I lost a bit of muscle mass recently, so I’m trying to get it back,”

“That sucks. Did it happen while you were missing practice?”

“Yes… it was a depressive episode, actually,” Oikawa said, looking at his food.

“You get them too!? You didn’t say!” Bokuto thought back to their lunch when he mentioned getting them. Oikawa sure kept things close, didn’t he?

“I… I don’t. I’ve only had one. It was situational, actually, but connected to my thing.” He made a dismissive motion with a utensil. 

“Oh, well that still sucks! Hey, do you have any advice for dealing with them here? I’m kinda worried since I’ve never had to be alone before. Not that I’m planning to get one! I’m doing everything I’m supposed to with diet and exercise and my doctor says I’m actually in a really good position since those are things I do and keep track of anyway for volleyball, but… I just started this new medication and it’s not something I can _really_ control, i guess,”

“I don’t know that I dealt with it very well,” Oikawa laughed, tight. He put the back of one hand against his forehead and swooned. “I was forced into therapy against my will,” 

“Do you want to stop going? My therapist says it doesn’t work very well if you resist,”

“No… It was a good idea. Like I said yesterday, I couldn’t afford to miss anymore volleyball while I tried to get ahold of myself,”

“You were going to try to do it all alone? Why would you do that?” As per usual, Bokuto said things without thinking about them too hard. If he tried to reflect on his own experiences with such episodes-- which he as a rule, didn’t-- he knew exactly the sort of weird uncomfortable feelings that made him want to turn everyone away. Still, Oikawa was saying this while not (?) being in such a state, which Bokuto couldn’t imagine. Why would anyone want to be alone?

Oikawa shook his head and didn’t answer.

“Your boyfriend made you go to therapy too, right?”

“Huh? How’d you know?”

“You told me when we first met in the office,”

“Did I? Ya, he did. Your boyfriend asked you to go? See, I told you he cared about you… Hey, this sauce is really good!”

“You don’t think he your friend asked so he didn’t have to deal with everything alone?”

“What? No. If that was it, he could have just left me. He noticed someone no one else did and asked me to get help because he loves me,”

“That’s a nice way to look at things. You’re so optimistic, Bochan,”

“Maybe you’re just really not-optimistic,”

“Are you calling me a pessimist?”

“I dunno, maybe?”

“... I guess I am,” Oikawa said. He looked at his phone, which he had placed just next to his plate. Bokuto had a little more of an idea what all that was about, but he didn’t want to get too personal like yesterday. He liked it much better when Oikawa laughed and smiled at him. But Oikawa was clearly really worried about his boyfriend for some reason and it was making him have to keep his phone close by, but he didn’t want to tell Coach because he thought it was too childish. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but that was okay. 

“Hey! Since you’re trying to put on weight, we should go to the gym together! I always used to go with a friend so I need a new buddy,”

“That sounds good… you’re not a gym rat, are you?”

“Ummm…”

Oikawa sighed. 

“We can try it anyway. You can’t be worse that Iwa-chan,”

“Is that the boyfriend you’ve been talking about?”

“Perhaps,”

“Cool!” Bokuto said.

They finished eating, talking about classes and volleyball techniques, and made plans to meet in the campus gym on Sunday.

When the day came around Bokuto discovered that, while Oikawa’s soft looks were pretty great, his intense concentrated ones were capable of making Bokuto shiver. He must have been having a good day because he kept his phone in his pocket for the most part, more focused than he had been during their private or regular volleyball practice.

“That was great!” Bokuto praised as Oikawa sat up from the bench, arms trembling. He smiled, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead. Bokuto thought maybe he overworked himself, because his chest felt a little tight.

“You’re much more motivational than Iwa-chan, that’s for sure,”

“Thanks! You’re great, too,” he said, having already done his reps.

“Hmm. Is your boyfriend the person you went to the gym with?”

“Oh, no. Akaashi wasn’t really for it, he did everything in volleyball. He said it helped him relax and he really had no interest in the rest. Also, he said that the friend I did go with was ‘a pain-in-the-ass’ and he had ‘beneath minimal interest’ in watching us be ‘ridiculous’ in public,”

“You know, I think Akaashi and Iwa-chan would like each other.”

They continued their workout and Bokuto left with a skip in his step. Things continued in that vein for weeks. Some days were better than others for Oikawa in regards to how long he could go without checking his phone, but he seemed to be getting better overall.

They kept each other in check outside of the gym, too. Both of their therapists recommended keeping tight track of their schedules, including eating, exercising, and sleeping. Since they both had volleyball and spent large portions of the day in each other’s company, they decided to sync their schedules. Because of classes, their lunches were different, but regardless they texted each other with reminders to eat and ‘goodnight’s right before they needed to be in bed.

It made Bokuto feel good, to know he could help in that way. He’d never been good at taking care of other people. He wasn’t even allowed to babysit his younger siblings. Which, well, that was fair, considering what happened the _first_ time. But still! It wasn’t the same anyway. He wasn’t responsible for Oikawa and Oikawa didn’t need constant attention to keep him away from vacuum cleaners like the twins did. 

Instead, they watched out for each other, kept each other on schedule, and traded volleyball tips. Plus, Bokuto even found a field he could give advice in. Like when Oikawa told Bokuto that he had trouble sleeping because it made him feel alone as part of his ‘thing,’ Bokuto was able to recommend a good weighted blanket. Oikawa told him it helped, so Bokuto felt pretty good about that.

And all that on top of the way Oikawa made Bokuto feel on the court. They had been gravitating towards each other in practices, so Bokuto discovered hitting Oikawa’s tosses was like nothing else. The way Oikawa watched Bokuto’s every move on the court with those glowing brown eyes made Bokuto want to straighten his spine and do better, and the way Oikawa used that information to always send him the toss he wanted most made Bokuto feel important. In many ways, it reminded Bokuto of Akaashi, which was always a good thing. But Oikawa’s visible satisfaction made Bokuto feel like he had done something for Oikawa as well.

“Is something wrong?” Bokuto asked Oikawa as they stood outside, having just finished at the gym. Oikawa had been a bit jumpier than normal the entire time, and had checked his phone at least every ten minutes. But when Bokuto asked, Oikawa hid his phone screen by pressing it up to his chest.

“Ha, no, why would you think that, Bochan?”

Bokuto cocked his head. Oikawa’s hand visibly tightened around the phone. He could only keep up the facade for a few seconds before he pulled the phone back to check the screen again.

“What time do you have, Bochan?”

It was a strange question since Oikawa had his phone right there, but Bokuto dutifully pulled out his own and checked anyway.

“Seven thirty-eight, why?”

“And what day of the week is it?”

“Tuesday, why?”

“No reason, let’s go!” Oikawa moved as if to put his phone in his pocket, but his arm froze before he could complete the motion, instead pressing it up against his side. 

They walked side-by-side for no more than a minute before Bokuto became concerned with how heavy Oikawa’s breathing sounded.

“Are you okay? Did you overwork yourself?”

Oikawa looked towards him, eyes too-wide, as his twitching lips tried for a smile. He didn’t even answer before checking his phone again. 

“Oikawa?” Bokuto put his hands on Oikawa’s biceps and backed him onto a bench. “Hey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Oikawa shook his head.

“Stupid. No big deal,” he said, still trying for that smile.

“It’s not stupid, it’s bothering you! Can I help?” Oikawa shook his head again.

“Stupid,”

“No it’s not! Tell me what it is.” Bokuto gave a sturdy shake to Oikawa’s shoulders before realizing that probably wasn’t the best way to get answers.

“Iwa-- Iwa-chan,” Oikawa finally managed. His hands shook as he opened and closed his messaging app, refreshing it over and over again. “He’s supposed to check in at seven thirty on Tuesdays.” Oikawa trembled under Bokuto’s hands, and Bokuto realized he’d seen something like this before, when he and Oikawa first met and had lunch at that sandwich shop.

“It’s not that late! I’m sure he’ll call any minute!”

“I know. I know. This is so ridiculous. I’m so…” he shook his head and looked back down at his phone, refreshing the app. “He’s never been late. He’s supposed to check in at seven thirty. What if something-- He’s supposed to check in at seven thirty.”

A chill raced its way down Bokuto’s back as color rose and then drained out of Oikawa’s face in a rapid cycle, going from a natural pink to an emergency sign red to a corpse-like pale as a green undertone rose in place of blood.

“Hey! How about we call him? Okay?” Bokuto suggested as he looked around for a trashcan, in case Oikawa puked.

“I can’t. I can’t. I’m not a child. I don’t need--”

Bokuto tugged the phone out of Oikawa’s death grip, Oikawa letting out a wounded sound that left guilt flooding through Bokuto. Still, he navigated Oikawa’s contacts and pressed the call button for ‘Iwa-chan <3’ before putting the phone on speaker.

It rang.

And it rang.

And it rang.

As he watched Oikawa tremble and lose color more and more with every ring, Bokuto realized his mistake. If ‘Iwa-chan’ answered, conflict resolved, everything’s perfect!

… but if he didn’t…

“ _You have reached the voicemail box of_ Iwaizumi Hajime _please leave a messag--_ ”

“Oikawa!”

As Bokuto watched, Oikawa’s intelligent brown eyes began to fade right in front of him, a plastic sheen coming over them like a cloud passing in front of the sun. Bokuto put his hand to Oikawa’s forehead and could only liken the feeling to touching a soft leather bag that had been left in a wet cooler. A pounding hum reached them from somewhere far away, drowning out the sounds of the night. When Bokuto thoughtlessly went to shrug off his jacket because of the heat, he realized the sound was his own heartbeat. 

His blood rushed through him and he could feel his pulse in his fingers. Oikawa’s form became blurry as Bokuto’s eyes teared up and the feeling of being on the last point of a game caused Bokuto’s legs to shake.

What did he do? What did he do? What could he do?

“Hey, hey! He’s probably just busy! I’m sure he’ll call back any minute!”

“Of course he will!” Oikawa answered in his usual preppy tone, but Bokuto could still see something _wrong_ in his vacant eyes and clammy skin.

“Awesome! How about we breathe while we wait?” Bokuto suggested, managing to notice how still Oikawa’s chest had become. His own breathing didn’t feel too great, either. “Follow my lead!”

He tried to set an example, but he couldn’t tell how fast he was breathing or if Oikawa was breathing at all.

Akaashi, he needed to call Akaashi. Or Kuroo. Or someone. They could help. They could… no, they were too far away to help the both of them at once. Bokuto needed to take care of this, of himself and Oikawa, right now, by himself.

How could he best help Oikawa? What about his friends at home helped Bokuto? How could he use that for both himself and Oikawa right now?

Bokuto let his legs drop him onto the bench beside Oikawa, pressing their shoulders together.

Touching always helped him. 

He looked up at the dark sky, something big and wide and calm, like Akaashi’s eyes or Kuroo’s hugs.

Calm. He needed to calm down. The best thing about his friends was how still they made him feel when he needed it.

Bokuto had never been good at calm.

A few stars shone here and there, through gaps in the clouds. 

His rough palm scraped over his cheeks as he cleared his eyes. He counted the stars, even as his leg bounced and he kept wanting to turn to look at Oikawa.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Bokuto turned to his frozen benchmate. Oikawa hadn’t moved, but now Bokuto could see the slow-- too slow-- rise and fall of his breathing. Also, Oikawa’s thumb kept making pressing motions against his closed fist… Oh!

Bokuto, guilt crashing through him, fit Oikawa’s phone back in his hand. Oikawa didn’t look at the screen, but he did start locking and unlocking it.

“You should breathe deeper,” Bokuto suggested. Oikawa looked at him.

“You’re funny,” he said, sounding like an npc in a videogame. But any conversation was good, right? Even if it was too vacant. 

“I think it’s a good idea!” Bokuto felt the wind against his skin and started to put his jacket back on. “It’s kind of chilly, right?” Oikawa hummed. “I’m usually pretty warm, but Akaashi always kinda scolded me when I didn’t bring a jacket! But I think he may have just wanted to borrow it, because he gets cold really easy! Anyway, he looks really cute bundled up in my jacket, ‘cause he does that sleeve thing, you know, where they cover his hands? So I like it when he borrows it, so I try to remember it for him. Though he says it’s not for him, and I just don’t get cold enough. He calls it machoism, but it’s not! It’s not my fault I don’t get cold! ”

Oikawa’s breath was less shallow, now, so Bokuto figured he was doing something right. He looked at the sky again. “Wow, that star’s super bright, don’t you think?” He pointed up, and watched with excitement when Oikawa followed his arm. When Oikawa got to the end of it, he frowned.

“That’s a planet,” he said. Bokuto whooped in accomplishment.

“Oh ya? How can you tell?”

“It’s very bright for a star, and it’s in the middle of a constellation it shouldn’t be in. It’s not twinkling, either,”

“Whaa? It’s not?” Bokuto looked closer.

“No,”

“And that means it’s a planet?”

“Yes. Planets don’t twinkle. They’re close enough to Earth that there’s not as much space debris to get in the way of the light,”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

Oikawa started to look down at his phone, and Bokuto worried that not seeing a message would set him off again.

“What planet do you think it is?” He asked. Oikawa looked up again, his eyes began to regain their signature intensity as he studied the sky, though his fingers continued to tremble.

“Not Mars or Jupiter,” he decided. “Not big or bright enough… I should know this.” He said the last part quieter, a sort of disappointment in his tone. Before Bokuto could worry more, the ringing of a phone interrupted them. He almost didn’t even see the motion that had Oikawa answering it and bringing it to his ear.

“Iwa-chan?”

 _“Oikawa!”_ Bokuto heard, garbled through the receiver. _“Shit. Are you okay?”_ The dramatic slump in Oikawa’s posture felt almost as alarming as whatever Bokuto had just witnessed. _“I’m so sorry. I can’t find my fucking phone and I didn’t have any friends around so I had to go find one and-- But shit, are you okay?”_

“Haha, don’t be silly, I’m fine, Iwa-chan!” The words made Bokuto uncomfortable. Their contents and tone didn’t match the still sort of empty look on Oikawa’s face.

_“... Are you sure?”_

“Such a worry-wart, Iwa-chan!”

 _“... video call me.”_ Oikawa flinched.

“Wow, so distrusting! I’m busy right now! I’m with a friend,”

_“Oikawa--”_

“So we can talk later, okay?... But where are you right now?”

_“I’m down at the front desk of my building. I’ve been upstairs in my room and I’m not planning to go out again. But Oikaw--”_

“Talk later, okay?” He hung up before the voice on the other end could answer.

Bokuto looked on, confused, as Oikawa turned to him.

“Thanks for your help, Bochan!” He stood from the bench. “And I had a good time at the gym! See you tomorrow? Bye.” Oikawa secured his bag over his shoulder and turned, walking away with heavy steps.

“Eh? Oikawa, wait!”

“I really have to go, Bochan, you know how it is.” He waved aimlessly at the air without looking back. “Things to do, and we really should be getting to bed. Can’t break that schedule, you know. It really is bad for--”

“Are you going to call your boyfriend back?”

Oikawa froze.

“... I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed as he studied the tense lines of Oikawa’s shoulders. Even from behind, he really didn’t look so good (eh, well, technically he looked really good. He had a long slender profile, broad on top and--Not the point).

“I guess not, but I think you should,” Bokuto said, slowly approaching the spot Oikawa had stopped. He was fiddling with the strap of his bag, phone finally tucked away. That didn’t stop it’s ringing again from breaking the silence between them. “You should answ--” 

The ringer cut off, silenced without being removed from the bag.

“I’ll text him, tell him I’m okay. But I don’t want… I don’t need…” Oikawa took a deep breath, holding it for a moment too long before releasing. It made his silhouette less tense, but now he seemed almost unsteady on his feet. The workout they had just come from probably didn’t help on that front, but Bokuto doubted the problems were entirely physical. This was twice now that Oikawa tried to run away after getting a bit spacey. Bokuto knew he wasn’t the sharpest, but he was pretty good at pattern recognition.

“Can I walk you to your room?” Bokuto found himself asking, once again before his mouth really caught up to his thoughts. It just seemed like even if Oikawa didn’t want to talk to Iwaizumi, he also didn’t really want to be alone. It was fine if he did! But Bokuto thought maybe not.

Oikawa hesitated, shifting his weight between his feet. Bokuto was preparing himself to accept the rejection when...

“Sure, Bochan,” he said in a voice that started off strong and lost steam halfway through the meager three syllables.

“Cool!” he jumped, jogging to catch up, and practically skipping along at Oikawa’s side. 

As they walked, Bokuto did his best to just keep Oikawa company, talking and laughing and asking his opinions on things like always. By the time they made it to the dorms, Oikawa was still staring down at his own feet, hands in his pockets, a little unsteady, but his face wasn’t tense. He turned in Bokuto’s direction.

“Thanks, Bochan,” he said to the ground between them.

“Hey, no problem! I told you I needed a gym buddy!”

Blinking in surprise, Oikawa finally faced him. After a few seconds, he turned away again, this time to snort into his hand, eyes crinkled in amusement. 

“Right, of course. I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

A cold burst of air hit Bokuto as Oikawa opened the door to his building. When it closed behind him, Bokuto could still see Oikawa through the glass answering his phone as he called down the elevator. 

When Oikawa turned, he wasn’t smiling. Yet… Bokuto remembered his cold pasted on expression, the one that hadn’t matched his words or his body language.

Ya, Oikawa didn’t have to smile all the time. It was nicer when he was honest in expressing himself. 

With a happy hum, Bokuto turned on his heel and pulled out his own phone. He had so many things to tell Akaashi about his day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my google doc: 10063  
> ao3: 9917  
> me: 🤨 ...damn em dashes.

**Author's Note:**

> I think these two have the potential for a very interesting dynamic considering their large set of differences, but also their not-too-great similarities, which is why I think they'd work really well as each other's secondaries in poly relationships. We'll see where this takes them...


End file.
